


She Got the Moves, She Got the Grooves (All the Boys Need Her)

by nonnymouse



Series: Fuck Me in the Ass for Jesus [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Camgirl AU, Cheerleader Uniform, Daddy Kink, Kinktober, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-31 05:41:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21086558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonnymouse/pseuds/nonnymouse
Summary: Bitty's got some new attractions for her cam shows: a cheerleader uniform and one-on-ones.





	1. Moves and Grooves

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Cheerleader" by Nazareth.
> 
> Original post: https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/393069.html?thread=2313196141#cmt2313196141

"Hi, everyone!" Bitty said, giving the camera a high-V and then a clap. He'd been making a lot of money lately, and even Chowder had found the amount of jam he'd been making alarming. Thus, Bitty had decided to slow down on buying ingredients. Just a little. He'd even put some money in savings. But some he'd decided to use on his cam shows. And the custom cheer uniform he was wearing had not been cheap.  
  
"Most of you know I'm a hockey fan, but it turns out it is hard to find an ice girl uniform. Yet they have cheerleader outfits in every costume shop!" He pouted, because he knew his boys liked thinking about his prettily glossed lips sucking their cocks.  
  
Even paying for custom, finding someone who made drag outfits and had even heard of ice girls had been fruitless so far. Besides, the thick fabric of a cheerleading uniform and trunks hid more than the clinging stretch fabric ice girls wore. He'd figure it out one day. The football cheerleader was a more popular fantasy anyway, and the tips were coming in quick. Not as good as a day when Wayne was signed on, but Bitty knew Wayne was a hockey fan and he often didn't show on nights NHL games were being played. Not unless Bitty did a late show.  
  
"How do I look, boys?" Bitty shook his poms. "I've got some special cheers for those of you who stick around."  
  
He smiled when he saw Coach's name on the list of watchers. With a screenname like that, cheerleaders had to be up his alley. Coach may not tip as extravagantly as some, but he was steady, and always polite.  
  
Bitty kept up the patter for a bit, did a few kicks to show off his trunks. Once he had a good audience built up, he took things private.  
  
It had been pretty fun, researching basic cheers and cheer moves. It had also been an excellent distraction from reading about the infinite shades of blue between two other shades of blue and trying to bring himself to care enough to right a short essay on the topic. His philosophy: who cares, as long as the blues you're wearing coordinate?  
  
Each show it got easier to slip into his Christina personality. It was similar to his baking blog persona—cheerful and friendly—but less honest. Not that he didn't base Christina on himself. She was who he thought he'd be as a girl, fitting into the mold he'd been expected to grow into. More confident, but so well-suited to the mold she didn't even realize she was stuck in it.  
  
A few easy cheers, and he started talking to the camera as if his viewers were his boyfriend, who wanted his cheerleader girlfriend to put on a private show. He acted shy about it, reluctant, but soon enough Christina took her top off to reveal a custom v-front bra. He took that off pretty quickly too, because he knew his tits bouncing as he cheered was what would really bring in the money.  
  
Since he'd practiced, he knew it hurt to have his tits bouncing for very long, even as small as they were. It didn't help that the saline injections were so temporary that he never had time to get used to having tits. They were something unknown stuck to his chest. But he sure made more money since Jesus changed his mind on the subject of titties.  
  
Moving on to the finish, he started throwing in the names of the night's big tippers and his favorite regulars as he cheered.  
  
He finished with his most thematic regular.  
  
_My Coach is red hot,_  
_My Coach is red hot,_  
_ My Coach is red hot,_  
_ My coach is R-E-D H-O-T._  
_ Once he starts, he can't be stopped!_  
_ Let’s go, let’s go!_  
  
A few more kicks to show off the trunks underneath his very short skirt and—"Wanna neck under the bleachers, boyfriend?" he asked, winking at the camera.  
  
Quickly, he angled the camera from the clear area he'd made for cheering to a desk and chair, where he sat and chatted topless for a bit. A little friendliness and some extra time with the titties, since he wasn't using any of his toys this show. It was the first show with the uniform, after all. He had to build up to things.  
  
He promised all his boys that they'd score with their cheerleader girlfriend soon.  
  
Using his keyboard, he send a PM to Coach asking him if he wanted a special one-on-one show. His screenname was so thematic that Bitty couldn't resist. Besides, Coach was a favorite regular and doing something nice for him would keep him coming back.  
  
They set a date for the next night.


	2. Need Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post: https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/393342.html?thread=2315198846#cmt2315198846

Guiltily, Coach signed in. He considered him a relaxed, laid-back sort of person, but he'd spent the day with his emotions rolling from one extreme to another as the excitement over his date with Christina warred with the knowledge that he was stepping further over that line. He was even thinking of it as a date, which made it hard to justify as merely masturbation.  
  
"Hi!" Christina smiled and waved at him, wearing the cheerleading uniform again, her hair left soft around her shoulders. She sat on a blanket with a picnic basket beside her.   
  
Maybe it was a little sad, his fantasy, but if he was still a football star instead of a football coach, he'd take her out for a picnic, where they could eat and talk and laugh and maybe neck a little. That's what he'd done with Suzanne when they were younger and couldn't even afford the movies sometimes.  
  
"Hello, Christina," he said. There was no video on his end, but this being private, he was using the computer's microphone instead of the keyboard. "How are you?"  
  
She took a moment to answer. "You really are a Georgia boy. I can tell, even if it is a little hard to hear you. Forgive me if I ever ask you to repeat yourself?"  
  
"Oh, I—" He stumbled, flustered. He hadn't thought about the built-in mic not being adequate.  
  
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I didn't expect you to go out and buy a fancy mic!" She had such big, pretty eyes. A man could get trapped in them when she blinked. "Don't tell me I've already ruined our date?"  
  
"No, no," he said. They talked a bit, small talk, mostly. It was hard, since neither of them wanted to get too personal. She'd really packed the basket full, and the food she nibbled on gave him something to talk about.  
  
"Looks like you're one fine chef," he said, watching as she used a napkin to pat the juice that had dripped onto her chin from her burger. His hand drifted between his legs, rubbing himself idly through the basketball shorts he'd thrown on. "That's one juicy piece of meat."  
  
With a sly grin, she said, "I bet that's not the only piece of juicy meat you want to share with me." But as soon as she said it, she blushed and tucked her head. "Gosh, I shouldn't say such things." Hurriedly, she put the burger away and pulled out a pie. Heart-shaped vents had been cut into it, and after all these years, he knew an egg wash when he saw one.  
  
"That's a mighty fine-looking pie. Looks as good as the ones my wife—" His hand stilled, the fantasy with Christina shattered as he remembered Suzanne, who was out scrapbooking and who would not appreciate him having a private session with a camgirl. Not even a camgirl who looked and cooked like her, not when she was probably twenty or so years younger.  
  
"It's okay," Christina told him, fiddling with that little gold promise ring she always wore. "I'm married to, ain't I? To Jesus, and to my future husband, through my daddy. I promised him. I know Wayne bothers you sometimes with all his daddy talk, but it's not bad, when you think about it. Daddies protect their little girls. That's the kind of man I want to marry. The kind of man I want to date. To go on picnics with."  
  
Coach's hand found its way back to his cock, and he was sure she could hear him breathing.  
  
Shyly, she unzipped her top. "I ain't gonna have sex with you. No, sir." The top fell down, revealing those perfect little breasts. "But you can touch me."  
  
She sighed as she played with her breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers until they peaked. He pulled his cock out of his shorts. All the while he imaging that it was his hands touching her, and her hands touching him.  
  
"Oh," she gasped in innocent surprise as she pinched one nipple. Her pale skin was flushed.  
  
"I want to fuck you," he said, telling himself that was just the script for the scene. It was what he'd say if he were there, dressed in his letter jacket. Only a letterman would get to take out a girl like that.  
  
But he wasn't conjuring his old self as easily. In his mind he looked just as he did now, moustache at all, sitting on that blanket with Christina, hands on her tits. And she liked it, being touched by someone older, in charge, who would take care of her. Who would see she was weak to the temptations of the flesh, but not lead her astray. "In the ass," he groaned. "It doesn't count, if it's in the ass."   
  
His girl bit her lip. "Yes, daddy."  
  
That's right. He hated Wayne talking about being her daddy because he wouldn't take care of her. He'd try to talk her into giving up her flower as soon as he could. Wayne wasn't a daddy. Coach was. He'd take care of her.  
  
He moved his hand to his balls, backing off so he didn't come before she even finished pulling out the toy she'd stashed in that basket.  
  
It was a realistically designed one, and very flattering at that size.  
  
He watched in awe as his baby girl took it all. She needed this. Boys with one thing on their minds would talk her into spreading those strong cheerleader legs, would tell her they'd love her forever if she just gave the what they needed, and then they'd leave her, round with their baby for her daddy to take care of. But if daddy gave her what she needed at home, let her ride that big cock until she came, she'd never listen to their poison.  
  
"That's it, Christina. Ride daddy's cock. You're daddy's wife until you get married, so he'll take care of you."  
  
She looked gorgeous coming, loose limbed, mouth thrown open, those sweet tits absolutely heaving. Staring at her, Coach forgot to grab a Kleenex and came all over his shorts like a boy. There was his teenage self again, at the exact wrong moment.  
  
"Let me drive you home?" he asked, watching her lie on the blanket.  
  
"Sure thing, sweetie," she said, turning to look at him with those melting eyes, a devastating smile on her lips. He could love a girl like her.  
  
He did. He loved a woman like her, and it was good. He loved Suzanne.  
  
Watching Christina's stream was merely masturbation.


End file.
